


the dealing hand

by shannyan



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: (mentioned) - Freeform, Eye Trauma, M/M, Mutual Pining, i’m forever salty abt arima’s death, pre cochlea invasion, stupid one eyed king thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 16:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20623832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannyan/pseuds/shannyan
Summary: The night before the Cochlea invasion, Arima and Sasaki both lack the resolve for what they must do. Knowing and needing what’s to come can’t stop one from wishing it won’t happen.





	the dealing hand

He waits until most employees have gone home. It’s very natural, and no questions are raised, as Sasaki has been working overtime for weeks already. The only one who puts in more hours than him is…

He works in the lounge this time instead of his office, taps away at his laptop with an eye on the door. Several times he gets up to leave, hovers towards the door, then slowly retreats to his seat. Eventually Arima strides in, for his usual black coffee, and Sasaki vaults to his feet. “Arima.”

Said man stops, tilts his head sideways sideways in greeting. If he’s startled, it doesn’t show. “Yes?”

“I have a book to return to you.” They both know there’s no such thing. Those days of exchanging books and discussing them over coffee are long gone, have been for a while. 

His expression is indiscernible. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for it. You can come over to my office.”

The response he was hoping for. Sasaki’s own must be bugged, like the longue definitely is, so it’s the only option for privacy. Sasaki nods stiffly and Arima walks him to said office. 

Kaneki wonders if he knows. The hair change is a dead giveaway. Arima made note of it when it started growing in black, but said nothing of how it all changed overnight. “Overnight”. As if rotting, accidentally left outside of the fridge too long. He’s waiting to be disposed of. 

But the smell of decay seems to ward the others away. They’re wary of him— conversation is now sparse, eye contact brief, hallways mysteriously open. Kaneki welcomes it, he lacks the time and energy to entertain. Once before, he may have been bothered by it, been made uncomfortable and self conscious, but now it’s like no one else exists anymore. He hasn’t been this alone… since he was fully human. He always had someone waiting behind for him, backing him. Whether it was Hide, or Anteiku, or Tsukishima and co… the Quinxs.. 

Sasaki misses them terribly. Kaneki’s scared of them. 

Sasaki and Kaneki are vastly different. The way they express loneliness, the way they cope with it, the way they hide it. They’re both cowardly, cautious, ignorant. Easily attached, overly attached, detached. It manifests differently, but the core remains. Kaneki just had to pin Sasaki’s name onto himself and act however he felt, and manages to go on unnoticed. Looks like the nature vs nurture debate has been solved. 

They’re too similar to love each other. At most there was a mutual sympathy, empathy, that was on the line of self hatred, both simultaneously feeling pity and disgust at the other. Neither wanted to disappear or lead, and so there was no conflict over who controlled their one body. Kaneki was powered solely by obligation and necessity— without it, he would have stayed forever dormant. 

But it’s not like he has two personalities— Sasaki is dead. His memory, his feelings remain, filling in the cracks in Kaneki’s, a heavy coat over his own. So heavy that it weighed down his entire body, kept him sluggish and hesitant. There’s too much, but he doesn’t know what to discard, where to put it, and how to let go. All of it is him, all those feelings were real. And it poses a problem. 

He hasn’t slept in two nights, dread and doubt simmering at the top of his mind, cooking his brain, melting his head to nothingness. As many times as he thinks over his plan he just— he can imagine every step in finding and freeing Hinami but when he meets up with Arima— he can’t fathom what would happen. Can’t imagine the kind of face he’ll make, when and how he’ll strike, what and if he would speak. Nor does he know how he himself will react, if he’d even be able to will body to move, if it’d wind up as an execution rather than a fight. 

Killing Arima is unfathomable. Impossible. Sasaki could hardly even keep up during spars, and Kaneki was effortlessly stricken down within moments. And, if for some crazy reason he gets the chance, he doesn’t think he could even do it. 

Kaneki’s first death was impersonal. He didn’t even hate Arima while it was happening; it was just the reaper picking up his dues. 

But the second time… he can’t. He knows Arima will act just as he did last time, he may not even speak to Kaneki as he kills him. But Kaneki can’t act like it isn’t personal. Why not from the owl, or Takizawa, or even the mystic one eyed king. Why does it have to be Arima? 

Accepting death is easy. The dealing hand is what scared him. 

He needs to look at him and see an enemy. He needs to distract him long enough for Hinami to leave safely. He needs to stand his ground, accept his fate, seal away his reservations. Only then will Kaneki join Sasaki in death. 

Is speaking to him the night before his plan a good idea? No, there’s no sound reason for what he’s doing. Were he only Kaneki, he wouldn’t do something so foolish, emotional, hazardous. But if Sasaki wavers tomorrow, everything falls apart. And so he needs to say his goodbyes. There are no words ready, just unease and the strong desire to see him and be seen. 

They walk over in silence, with Arima walking ahead of him rather than beside. When they get there, Arima sits first, in front of his computer, which acted like a barricade. Kaneki pulls his chair up close in resistance— he wants to make sure Arima sees him. He doesn’t speak at first, just looks him in the eye, searching. They’ve spoken a few times since the mission, and yet eye contact was never sustained. Always on account of Kaneki, though he swears Arima does it as well. 

Arima looks back for a moment, but then his gaze drops down. “The glasses are new… has your eyesight gotten worse?”

Every now and then his vision blurs, everything dims, and his eyes throb. Like a notification; the final stage of an upgrade is a restart. His body begs to stop, to rest, to succumb. Soon. 

“Yes, but it might be because I spend so much time staring at screens.”

Arima’s shoulders drop marginally, and Sasaki wants to think it’s relief. “You’ve made great progress recently, your promotion was well deserved. Congratulations.”

He ducks his head and looks at him through his bangs. “Thank you, sir.” Sasaki would’ve smiled now, slip a nervous laugh, shrunk back from his gaze. Kaneki knows, and yet he can’t make himself do it. Can’t bear to wear his skin. That’s what the glasses are for, actually. To distinguish himself, his small and only token of respect for his last victim. 

“The loss of a subordinate is a very painful thing.” He looks to the side. “I regret not being there.”

Of course, he must have. Then maybe Kaneki never would have woken up and— then what? What use was he to them?

It’s something he couldn’t understand. Why put him on the field where he can very possibly encounter old comrades and regain his memories? Why put him under the supervision of the man who took everything from him? Why couldn’t he have just died that night? 

There’s no reason. His life doesn’t even belong to him. It belongs to— belonged to— 

Well, Hinami now. She’s a worthy cause. 

He looks up at the man who will take his life (again). “Perhaps you could have succeeded in eliminating the owl. It’s unfortunate that I’m the one who encountered it.”

“Yes… Unfortunate.”

An unbidden guilt strikes him, for biting the hand that feeds. He wonders how would Arima feel— anger, disappointment, or… nothing? 

Does he know Kaneki’s back? Does he?? The whole plan falls apart if he does— they’ll never leave him an opening to save her. Now Kaneki regrets coming here, shouldn’t have tried to speak to him, should never have come here, should leave now. 

But he wants him to notice. Can’t he? Arima’s… not his father. In a way, he gave life to him, but now that he knows the truth, he sees the paternal relationship was a farce. Kaneki doesn’t  _ want _ him to be his father— and still—

Arima  _ made _ Sasaki. He doesn’t see that his creation has died? Snuffed out and stuffed into a closet, with Kaneki holding the door shut. There’s no sense of loss, desire for vengeance? Does Sasaki’s absence not even enter Arima’s scope? 

Arima touches his shoulder, gentle, but he jerks away in surprise. He’s so scared of him, scared of his touch, of when it’ll turn fatal. He wishes it won’t, wishes it’ll stay this gentle, but knowing it won’t, makes him not want it at all. 

He doesn’t look surprised by Kaneki’s reaction, retracts his hand silently, puts it in his lap. “You were very invested in cultivating the Quinxs. I was surprised to hear that they were reassigned at your request.” 

He had to, in order to join Arima’s squad, in order to be responsible for protecting Cochlea. It’s the only way to stay behind without arousing suspicions. 

Anyway, their leader is dead, he had no business playing make believe. He had no business even asking Urie to save Tooru…

A moment of weakness, of desperation. He wants to go too, of course he does, he still cares about all of them—

He knows, he  _ knows _ he could be useful to the Quinxs. He knows they’re in dangerous situations now, that he could help them, maybe even save them. He doesn’t have to go this route. He doesn’t.. fully want to. 

Of course he wants to stay with them, they’re his last family. He wants to stay with Arima and Mado, even if they’re just using him. He always felt incomplete, but at least he wasn’t empty. 

But he’s the only one who can save Hinami. She was here first, Kaneki was here first—

Too many people need saving, there’s no time for self pity. “I realized I wasn’t equipped to lead. I work better as a subordinate.” 

“Is visiting them a duty only for their commander?” 

He musters a smile, though he knows it’s clearly ingenuine. “I’ve.. been very busy.” Unconvincing. He unconsciously cracks his index finger. 

Arima must know, it’s so obvious. He wouldn’t be asking him questions like this if he didn’t know. 

They why still allow him to take part in the mission? Their posts haven’t been changed, not to his knowledge— From where Arima is stationed, he wouldn’t be able to reach Kaneki fast enough to apprehend him. No, only afterwards, which is fine. 

Does he think Kaneki will continue as Sasaki? He wonders, would that be the weak or strong thing to do? 

“If you wish, I could have you temporarily reassigned to their squad to aid in the retrieval of Tooru.”

His mouth opens before he has words ready, Sasaki lunging out for a moment. He bangs at that metaphoric closet to silence him. “N.. No, I have faith in Urie to succeed. He’s… gotten a lot stronger.”

Tall and near regal, Arima’s so strong, and he knows it. His body seems slight, but Kaneki has seen under his coat, has seen how built he is. He envies Urie and his constant rigorous muscle building. What hope, overestimation of himself, underestimation of others. Naivety that was beaten out of Kaneki, one near death fight after the other. Dumb luck was the only reason he’s standing now. He can’t recall the last time he was so hopeful— or hopeful at all. 

“Yes, I noticed his rapid growth. Regardless, you should wish them luck before they embark. It boosts morale.”

Last words? He had none. They were given after Shirazu’s death. The Quinxs wouldn’t want Kaneki’s farewells. 

Arima leans forward and pushes his glasses up, the posture drastically reducing the faux friendly atmosphere. “What did you want to speak to me about? Unless you actually do have a book for me.” 

So many things he could say, can’t say. He was always like this, scared and withdrawn. But he wants to be honest with Arima, this one time. Only for him did he have final words for. 

He truly had... loved him. 

Aloof, superior, empty. That’s how others saw him, but Sasaki knew better. He knew of Arima’s kindness and generosity. His favorite books, the way he likes his coffee, how surprisingly high his glasses prescription is. Arima was everything to Sasaki. A savior, a mentor, a source of trust and love. 

It’s something like how baby chicks imprint on the first person they see. Beyond familial, closer to romantic, but not quite. Worship, maybe. But he had gladly taken the label father and child, anything to bond them. To indicate that Arima liked him in any way. 

But now he wonders if Arima ever did love him. All the things constructed, hidden, denied… what’s real and what isn’t? Why is he even here?

His eyes dart down to his chest, to the plain black tie pinned to his dress shirt. To this day he hasn’t seen Arima use the tie pin he gifted to him even once. A rejection of him? Of his feelings of kinship and trust? Was he a ghoul all this time? 

He should hate Arima. His only and greatest obstacle. Things could have played out differently hadn’t he been there. Were he never alive, Kaneki could have been at Anteiku right now with that family. The CCG wouldn’t be as fearsome, ghoul communities wouldn’t be so fearful, and maybe he could have been… happy. 

Instead, he curses his own weakness. The blame lies with him— nothing comes from accusing others for your own misgivings. He has no control over others, over the world— only himself. If only he were stronger. 

Arima doesn’t do this because he’s cruel or evil, and so Kaneki doesn’t seem him that way. Instead he’s the ultimate standard, for Kaneki to fear, strive for, respect. 

“...I wish I did. Don’t you— I miss those days. Doing that.”

“You seemed too occupied with the owl investigation to spend time reading.”

“But.. I’ve caught her now.”

He nods slowly. “....You have. But I think you’ll be busy for a while now.”

His heart races, body goes stiff with dread. Practically a confession. 

Kaneki laughs sardonically, stands up and steps backwards, limbs heavy with fear. His chair loudly clatters behind him, like an alarm going off. “I guess you’re right, I have such little time left anyway.”

Arima rises as well, slowly and solemnly. “No.. I’m sure that later on you’ll have plenty of leisure time

He feels himself falling apart, feels IXA reaching in and rescrambling his brain. On cue, his vision starts flickering, like his eyes are being pushed out of his head. He closes them to keep them inside his skull. 

He takes a garbled breath. “I’m sure you’ve noticed…. I haven’t… been myself.” A confession right back at him. 

“A lot has happened.”

Vague, aloof. He really.. won’t say it outright. Why? 

Admitting who he is guarantees certain death— He won’t even be able to carry out his dying mission. But skirting around it is torture. The ambiguity of his words assured him that Arima did indeed know— so what now? 

If he does know, there may be a trap. Maybe the computers will be disabled, the Zero squad tailing him, Arima waiting on the other side of that door. And his eyes that had stumbled on the truth again, taken again, along with Hinami. 

Arima’s suitcase smolders from atop his desk, emanates the stale scent of  _ death _ , so close to the two of them Kaneki could almost feel its blades ripping into his skull. Now, he has to run, or strike first, just do something before Arima does so he’s not taken by surprise. But his body choose freeze over fight or flight. 

“Arima I’m— I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.” 

A touch of a smile, negligible to the unsearching eye. “..Knowing and needing what’s to come can’t stop one from wishing it won’t happen.”

Which one of them is he talking about..? A spurt of excited hope strikes him. “I don't want to— I can’t fight you. Just take my life in exchange for hers.”

Whatever spill of humanity that just bled out of him vanished, as quickly and suddenly as it had come. “In the case of an invasion, I believe you’ll be able to emerge victorious, even if you do come out wounded.” 

This will be the last time they speak. Once he initiates the fight, defines himself by his ghoul side, Arima will see him as a ghoul. And investigators don’t talk to ghouls. 

He never even asked Arima why he killed ghouls. Wouldn’t he spare a harmless one? Couldn’t Kaneki convince him to let her go? 

No, never. Morality never seemed to factor into Arima’s actions. All he does is follow orders, flawlessly and quietly. 

“Why are you letting me stay behind tomorrow?”

“You’re a valuable investigator, the CCG believes that their strongest must defend it.”

“But you know I won’t defend it. You know I’m not Sasaki. Why won’t you say it?” 

So he says, but Sasaki’s definitely steering now— broken out his casket spitting maggots out of his mouth. How can he rest in peace, without Arima at his funeral? 

Arima returns his stare, steady and confident. “You have to be there tomorrow.”

He really never could understand him.

“You just said I could be transferred!”

And then suddenly a crease in his face, a wrinkle in his demeanor. “... I would like it if you didn’t go. But you must.”

“Why?? Because I have to die? Or are you going to hit the reset button again?” He grabs a pen off his desk and before he could even hold it over his eye, Arima’s hand came flying to his wrist. His eyes are wide, mouth open, like he’s going to say something, something important and personal that burst up his throat unbidden, but no words come out. Instead his hand remains, grip tight and painful, so much so that Kaneki’s forced to drop his makeshift weapon. 

His mouth closes and opens again, words vanishing along with whatever facial expression had slipped through. “..Be.. careful.”

“What? Why can’t I? You’ve done it time and time again.” He’s— he’s whining, throwing a  _ tantrum _ , like a child. He’s never acted like this before, never had an outburst like this, as Kaneki or Sasaki— but he wants to be honest for the first time, for the last time. He’s been silent for so long he can’t even tell who he is. 

He can vaguely recall his first days as Sasaki… no, as number 240. Books being slid under his door, an endless supply of them, and some days he’d return to find additions to his room like sheets, blankets, pillows. And then company, conversation, companionship. Simple gestures that gave him the will to live. It gave him the confidence, the desire to ask Arima to name him. 

Maybe, if he did, Kaneki never would have come back. 

But there are unpleasant memories too, of having his feet kicked out under him, body heavy and hurt. Again, again, move faster, strike harder, get up. Stand,  _ stand _ , or else he’s worthless. Or else he’ll die again. 

Arima doesn’t let go but doesn’t look at him, chronically cold. Tomorrow is fated, he realizes. They have to fight tomorrow, he has to die tomorrow. Nothing he says or does today can change that. 

“Why couldn’t I have just stayed dead?” His legs go weak and he crashes to his knees. He tries to curl up, wrap his arms around himself to keep himself together, stop his body from falling apart. It’s reached full capacity and now it’s breaking, overflowing, schismed apart. He would, but Arima’s grip on his wrist is unwavering, half holding him up, too high up where it stretches his shoulder uncomfortably. Get up, get up, you have to stand, or else or else—

Arima stands over him, massive and still. His mouth a straight line, as if sewn shut. Why, why? Did he have nothing to say to Kaneki? Does he only want Sasaki? “I didn’t want to come back. I didn’t want more people in my life, more people to just— disappoint. Hinami wouldn’t have been captured in the first place if it wasn’t for me. Hide died for nothing.” And he’s openly crying, his eyes sting from the tears, like he’s bleeding them out. 

“Sasaki—“

“I’m not Sasaki! I’m Kaneki!”

Arima’s facing him, but it’s like he’s looking past him, over him. “Kaneki had white hair and a desperate drive to live. You’re not him.” 

“But you’ve been waiting for him, right? Hoping he wouldn’t come back. Is that why you’re my mentor? So you can kill me when I come back?

“I chose to be your mentor because I saw your potential.” He reaches down— to soothe, to silence— Kaneki doesn’t know, so he recoils, feels his quinque prickle his skin from the buzzing sense of danger. 

“I was no match for you! I, I lost, in the end so many died because I couldn’t—“

“You’re not him, Sasaki. 

He ducks his head down in resignation and his glasses slide off his face, clatter beside Arima’s feet. “Stop it! Listen to me! I’m not— I’m not strong enough. I can’t do this. Please, if you care about me at all, even a little,  _ please _ just…” 

The responding silence is a heavy blow, and he takes a moment to recover from it. 

He knew Arima wouldn’t react as kindly, as emotionally as he has, but it was still painful. He adamantly believes Arima  _ feels _ , that he’s not the killing machine the CCG believe they’ve so perfectly crafted. That their time together was real, that something genuine was forged between them. He wants to believe it. 

“I don’t know if you hate me… but I don’t hate you.”

At that, Arima closes in, eyes purposeful. Kaneki’s yanked back to his feet— the first time he’s ever been helped up, rather than forced by himself— and held there with Arima’s gaze. “There’s nothing you can do that would make me hate you.”

“But..” His voice comes out faint and thin. “But you’ll still fight me tomorrow.”

He merely closes his eyes. His fingers remaining on Kaneki’s wrist twitch, like he’s torn between catching or releasing him, like a trapped bird. 

“This is the last time we ever talk… don’t you.. have anything to say to me? 

And then he’s grabbed by the front of his shirt, pulled up to his toes, Arima’s leaning down and— they kiss. His grip is tight and his hands are… they’re shaking, pulling him closer and higher still. It’s almost clumsy, how erratic he is, but it makes Kaneki snap out of his shocked stupor and he grabs him back, at his shoulders, around his neck, hugs himself closer too. His whole body is so cold, a stark contrast to the hot panic of Kaneki’s skin. Cold like he’s as dead as Kaneki will be. 

Kaneki peaks an eye open to find both of Arima’s own to be fully open, and it’s like it’s the first time he ever saw his face, from the searching and severity of his eyes. Never this close before, Sasaki sees a cloudiness in his irises, can’t see his own reflection there. Can he reach him like this? Is this close enough? Is there no overcoming that boundary? 

No, and he knows this for sure when Arima releases him and steps away. 

“We both have to go now. Good night Sasaki.”

And the next day, white haired and victorious, with Sasaki properly buried and mourned, Kaneki understands. Still, he carries that tie clip around with him, forever unused. 

**Author's Note:**

> idk if anyone remembers but that scene where kaneki curls up and cries before the cochlea invasion makes me SO emotional. ahhg. 
> 
> alright i’ve written a fic for every stage of their relationship… i’m satisfied now. i wish i joined the fandom when it was active sob sob


End file.
